


Paint

by XingueseEmpress



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Coping Mechanisms, F/M, Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XingueseEmpress/pseuds/XingueseEmpress
Summary: Wenry wonders why Evelyn's been sleeping outside on the porch swing, even though he so gracously let her have his bedroom to herself.





	Paint

Ed jolted out of her sleep, a gasp catching her throat by surprise. In her addled state, she worked off of instinct, tearing the suffocating blanket off her sweat-soaked body. She switched on the light and immediately regretted it. The pure white walls felt as if they were closing in on her. She whimpered and pressed her clammy hands to her face. Something cold brushed against her arm. She slapped it away and bounded out of bed, only to find nothing.

"Get ahold of yourself, Ed," she breathed, rubbing her bare legs. The room temperature was moderate before she went to bed, but the combination of sweat and bare legs didn't exactly conserve body heat.

Ed stood up straighter and focused her vision on the open window to her left. She listened to the crickets, watched the stars twinkle, rubbed the goosebumps dotted her legs. Anything but those white walls. They reminded her too much of the Gate. Her nightmares always featured it in all it's white-washed glory, sometimes with chittering shadows creeping out to drag her in and dump her out, limbless before her terrors.

Alphonse, screaming as her mother's dark, mutilated fingers touch him, transmuting his emaciated body into dust, piece by piece. "Save Mommy Ed-baby!" she always cackles. "Save Mommy like you promised and she'll stop!" and her I can't, pleases being drowned out by the screams of all the people who died because of her. Ed snatched the cover off the floor, pinching herself to rid the images from her mind.

She had no clue how to stop the nightmares, but she did no one thing: she wasn't going to sleep in this room anymore right now. She grabbed her cotton pants from the dresser and pulled them on, and then she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and left the room.

When Wenry found her the next morning, she was draped across the porch swing, snoring quietly. He frowned and wondered why on earth she'd be there of all places.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Ed?"

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. "Huh?" she breathed, her golden eyes straining in the sunlight.

"I let you take my room for a reason, you know?" he said, a grin dimpling his cheeks.

Her cheeks colored and she scrambled to gather the covers around her in a way that wouldn't touch the porch. "I-uh-couldn't sleep last night," she said, wrapping the cover around her and checking the ground around her feet. Deliberately avoiding looking into his eyes-that meant she was lying, or at least fixing up the truth to save herself from embarrassment. If only she knew how embarrassed she'd be if he told her how cute she was being.

"Looks like you had no trouble at all, to me," he said, gesturing to the porch swing.

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "What do you want, anyway?"

"To let you know that breakfast is ready," he said. "Back on topic: if you don't want to use my room anymore, tell me so I can move back in. Al snores and it's interfering with my beauty rest."

Ed's face went from flustered to amused. She cackled. It was her naughty laugh, reserved when she relished in other's suffering. "Like hell I'm gonna subject myself to that, dork!"

He huffed a laugh and turned, reaching the door in a single, swift stride. "If you don't hurry up, I'll eat your bacon," he said.

Her responding gasp was exaggerated and playful. "No! Touch my bacon and I cut out your tongue!"

She forgot about her blanket as she rushed to follow her childhood friend to the kitchen.

* * *

The next night, Ed wandered outside of her room, yet again shaken by her night terrors. Rubbing the crust out of her eyes, she made it to the front door, opening it slowly so she wouldn't risk waking up the house's occupants with its droning creak. She'd only been home for three months and she hated that her nightmares had come back. She thought that since she was finally happy and at peace, they'd stop, and they  _did_  stop before a few nights ago. Now she would probably have to deal with her terrors hounding almost every night again.

She would've just resigned herself to her fate, but the only way to sleep without the feeling of walls pushing in on her was to go outside to the swing. She knew that one of these days Wenry would stop believing her excuse and interrogate her. She could just imagine the look on his face if she were to tell him that all the shit she went through those five years was still suffocating her to this day. He would worry, and she didn't want to be worried about in a safe, quiet environment. It seemed pointless to her, but she knew that it was in his nature.

She laid on her side on the swing, letting the gentle back-and-forth sway rock her as she stared past the rolling hills and into the stars. Ed remembered a time when she would say a rhyme and wish on them. She had no recollection of the rhyme but saw no harm in letting her childhood naivety get the best of her, so she wished for the stars to grant her a full night's rest sometime soon.

* * *

Ed awoke as the rooster bellowed out its first crow of the day. The sun hadn't fully risen, so she knew she had a little more time before Wenry came outside to feed the flock of chickens. She rose from the porch swing, stretched and made her way into the house, blanket in-hand.

She refrained from turning on the lights out of a mix of consideration and fear of having to explain why she was entering the house at dawn with a blanket. Memory guided her through the sitting room, up the stairs, and through the wood-floored hallway.

She looked up when she noticed light coming through the bottom crack of the bathroom door. Ed froze and damned herself for not thinking to wear padded house shoes to get outside last night. She sighed through her nose and tiptoed toward the door, hoping she could get past it and into her room without incident. As she neared it, she could hear the sound of the sink faucet running, and hoped that the sound would drown out the creaking floorboards. She considered the time she had to pass the bathroom. Chances were, they were washing their hands, which would take under a minute, two if they were brushing their teeth. She prayed for the latter.

She tried not to crack a juvenile grin as she took hold of the knob and turned it. The door opened, and she stepped through it. She didn't get her second foot through it before the bathroom door creaked open. She turned around to see who it was.

Wenry looked at her, his blond hair covering his hooded blue eyes. He raised his eyebrows. "Mornin'."

She lifted her hand in a half-assed greeting. "Hi," she said in a low voice. She tried to tell herself that her tone was due to the other two sleeping occupants on this floor, but really, she was embarrassed that she got caught again. At least he was too tired to question her this time.

He blinked, then a smile curled his full lips. "Were you sleeping on the swing again?" His voice was husky from sleep.

 _Fuck._ She was glad that there wasn't enough light for him to see her embarrassed flush. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

His smile went down momentarily. She could tell he was still amused. "Just wondering,' he answered. He shut the bathroom door and headed down the stairs. "See you later."

* * *

"Hey, Al?" Wenry said as he passed his friend a plate to dry. They'd had breakfast not too long ago, and since the girls cooked, they were forced to clean.

Al took the plate. "Yes?"

"Today's the second day that I've caught Ed sleeping outside on the porch swing. I don't know how long she's been doing it before I've seen it, but it's strange." He scrubbed a piece of particularly difficult egg on the skillet. "What do you think?"

Al hummed and pressed his hands to the rim of the sink. It didn't look like Wenry would be finished with that skillet just yet.

"She seems to like sleeping outside sometimes," he answered after a minute. "When we were journeying, she would always try to get hotel rooms with balconies. She always talks about how much she loves the stars. That could be it."

"If that were the case, she wouldn't avoid me when I ask about it." He finally handed over the skillet.

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Al said. "I always assumed she just enjoyed it and never asked."

They resumed with their pattern of washing and drying. Alphonse couldn't help but think about his sister and her habits. It went without saying that if anyone knew Ed well enough to figure out what was wrong, it was Al. All those years ago, he would sit in her room as she slept. She'd gotten so used to it that she confessed that during her six-month stint with Greedlin, Darius and Heinkel, she had a hard time sleeping without him there. She'd long since broke herself out of that habit, though. He remembered the very first time she woke up in the middle of the night and relocated to the balcony. He'd asked her what she was doing, and she'd avoided his gaze and gave him a curt answer: "It's suffocating in here."

And that reminded his present self about her explanation of the Gate: "A white void. Vast, yet suffocating."

He knew that feeling well enough.

"Could be because of the Truth's Gate," he finally said.

Wenry paused. "What do you mean?"

Alphonse went on to explain. He finished, "If I have a particularly bad nightmare, I have to open up a window. The white walls are just too similar to the Gate's void when you're still jumpy from a nightmare or flashback. Ed's been through the Gate four times, compared to my two. Her coping mechanism would naturally be more...extreme than mine."

Wenry nodded. A pregnant silence filled the room.

* * *

The next morning, Wenry set out before the sun came up. He had an idea in mind to help Ed with her problem. Hopefully, it would work.

Speaking of Ed, she was just waking up as he passed her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"Out," he answered. "I need to run an errand before my customers start coming." And if she knew about his intentions, she'd get defensive and refuse his help, so he kept it a secret for now.

"...Oh," she said. "See you."

When he came home, Ed wasn't there. According to Al, she was out running errands for Old Man Walker. That's what she did now; ran errands for the elderly citizens of Risembool. The most business she got was from Walker. Rumor had it that his grandson had a crush on her and having her over to help him out was the old man's way of trying to set them up, but Ed never complained. He paid pretty well considering she only shopped for him and fed his horses.

Wenry lied when he said customers would come in today, and he didn't expect Ed to be gone today, but he was glad that he wouldn't have to wait around for this. He called Alphonse upstairs as he walked to the guest room to change.

By the time he was done, Alphonse was upstairs, asking what was up.

"Wanna help me move some furniture?" asked Wenry.

"Why?"

"You'll see. Change into some clothes you wouldn't mind getting dirty." Wenry said.

Alphonse quickly obliged.

It took them a while, and they were understandably tired from relocating a dresser(with a mirror attached), a desk, a bookshelf (after packing the books into boxes first, of course), a bed, and lastly, it's frame. They moved everything down to a corner in the living room, and were surprised when the furniture didn't take up much space, but then again they fit the furniture in a way that wouldn't be clunky and in the way.

They rested a moment, and when they were almost finished with the taping, Ed appeared in the doorway, a stack of books in hand and a confused look across her face. "What the hell?"

Wenry stood up and looked Ed's way. "Hey," he said, dropping the tape to the floor. He was done with his two walls anyway. "We're painting your room."

"This is your room, you doofus. And Granny's house! Did you even ask her?" She frowned.

Al shot up from where he was smoothing his tape to the border. "Granny thought it was a good idea."

"What about me?" Her lips thinned and she crossed her arms tightly against her chest.

Wenry lifted his lips in a hopefully reassuring smile. He walked to her, reaching to grab her arm and pull her out of the room. There was confusion etched over her features, but he knew her well enough to see that she was hiding her embarrassment. She knew what was going on-or at least had an idea.

"I wanted to help," he explained anyways. "Al too."

"I didn't ask for your help," she muttered.

"And you wouldn't have," he said, his hand sliding down to grip her wrist.

"So what?" she snapped. "Why do you have to make all my problems your business? You have so much to worry about and do, yet you still throw away your time for me."

"And why do  _you_  have to bottle everything up until you can't take it anymore? Me, Al and Granny. We're here for you, and you still refuse help," he retorted. "And for your information, I'm hardly 'throwing away my time' to help you."

She sighed and looked away. "I didn't wanna burden you. I'm supposed to be happy right now, but I'm so stuck in the past that I can't even sleep in a white bedroom without feeling like I'm suffocating. Why the hell would I push that on you three? I know how you guys worry. It's still stuck in my mind from when I was in the military."

His hand slid further down to grip hers. "Ed. Look at me." Her eyes only moved a fraction. Enough to see him, but not enough for him to fully see her. That would have to do for now. "You don't have to keep everything away from me anymore. You're safe. I'm safe. No more homunculi or bad people who wanna hurt you."

Ed flinched and stopped looking again. Wenry took hold of her chin. He knew what she was going through. He was an automail engineer and surgeon. He dealt with people from all walks of life who got the short end of the stick. Losing one or more limbs wasn't as simple as getting a new one installed and walking out of his clinic fine and dandy. It came with pain and nightmares. Guilt, doubt, resentment. If anybody could help Ed with her trauma, it was Wenry. She was just hurting too much to see that.

"Let me help you make it easier?" his voice was low. "Please?"

She looked at him fully now, her golden eyes set alight in the hallway's orange light. They were the same age, and he'd always felt that it wasn't fair how fast she'd been forced to grow up. She'd grown at such a rate that she could never confide in him due to his naivety, and it was self-destructive.

Ed didn't grin widely but the soft tilt of her mouth relieved him, nonetheless. She set her books down on the hall table and pulled her hand free of his. He looked on, confused, as she strode over to his and Al's shared bedroom and shut the door. When she came out, she was wearing one of his old shirts and work pants. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit.

"A little too late for that."

She walked past him, her face set. No more grins. Just an aura of a determined girl, tired of her pain, ready to start putting it behind her. Wenry watched from the doorway as Ed snatched a paintbrush from Al and dunked it in the purple paint. He considered getting red (her favorite color) but quickly decided against it due to its similarity to a certain bodily fluid. Ed lifted her arm and swung it, flicking the paint to the wall opposite of the door.

She looked to Wenry and Al both. "Come on guys! Aren't we supposed to be painting my room?"

Al backed away from her, his hands up in surrender, even though her frustrations were being taken out on the wall and not him.

"Nope," Wenry said. "Keep doing your thing."

Her eyes narrowed and she turned around and continued using the purple as a weapon to maim the white. Wenry placed his hands on his hips. She'd been bottling all her feelings up for who knows how long. He was glad he could get her to release it.

Al leaned over to ask, "What exactly did you say to Sister to make her paint the walls so aggressively?"

He grinned and made his way downstairs, Alphonse following him. "The usual," he answered. "Now, I'm gonna go in the basement to see if we have any more paint. I really should've done it earlier instead of buying that expensive stuff, but hindsight isn't helpin' anybody."


End file.
